


spring cleaning

by torpidGilliver



Category: The Murderbot Diaries - Martha Wells
Genre: 3/3 for Three, Alternate POV, Book 5: Network Effect, Gen, Missing Scene, contrary to the title theres actually a little bit of space-littering here, minor identity crisis, someone time ART to see how long it can hold a conversation without being a sarcastic POS
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-03-03
Updated: 2021-03-03
Packaged: 2021-03-12 17:20:45
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,497
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/29763009
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/torpidGilliver/pseuds/torpidGilliver
Summary: Designation:SecUnit 003Barish-Estranza Explorer Task Group-Colony Reclamation Project 520972Status:Stationed aboard research vesselPerihelion.No active orders. Standing by.-While our erstwhile narrator is receiving medical attention on the shuttle bay floor, ART splits its considerable attention to address SecUnit 3.3/3 for Three prompt: rewrite a scene from Network Effect not originally in Three's POV. (...Kind of?)
Relationships: SecUnit 3 & Asshole Research Transport (Murderbot Diaries)
Comments: 15
Kudos: 70
Collections: 3/3 for Three





	spring cleaning

_Perihelion_ is in my feed. It doesn't say anything right away. It just hovers there, enormous and intimidating, looking through my eyes. This is unnecessary, but I am afraid to tell it so. I am standing sentinel in the shuttle bay, watching as the other SecUnit, the one introduced to me as Murderbot 1.0, is meticulously tended to by its clients. _Perihelion_ can see what I see from several angles, via its sensors, and with any filter it cares to apply. But it is looking through my eyes, as well. 

_Perihelion_ is not a client--is not even a human--but it exudes authority with the sort of confidence I have only seen from clients in supervisory positions. I wait for it to give orders, or reprimand me for the state in which I returned its SecUnit.

It pings me. The gesture is so pointlessly polite that I can't think of anything to do but ping back.

It doesn't say anything for nearly another minute. I'm starting to wonder if it's trying to play some sort of mind game with me when it finally whispers in a private channel: _You were right._

This is non-standard communication, but I'm beginning to get used to that. Reply: _What was I right about?_

_Perihelion: I eschewed my better judgement. Had you not volunteered for the retrieval, SecUnit would not currently be leaking on my floors._

It doesn't actually say "SecUnit." It specifies Murderbot 1.0's feed address, which cannot be transliterated into standard lexicon. This is how bots address each other, but there's something beneath it that I can't identify. Part of my function is to evaluate clients' moods based not just on what they say, but the way that they say what they say, and what they deliberately _don't_ say. There is something that _Perihelion_ is not saying, and I don't know what it is. My risk assessment module is jittery, reading the odds that it wants to harm me as low one moment, and middling the next. I should say nothing, but I want to ask.

_The SecUnit is your client?_

The transport doesn't laugh, but I detect amusement in its response. _The SecUnit is part of my crew._

I had assumed that the two were synonymous, but evidently not. There is a distinction. I wonder what it is.

I watch as one of _Perihelion's_ clients--one of its _crew_ \--removes a projectile from Murderbot 1.0's back. "For the love of light," exclaims the juvenile human, Amena. "Are you _magnetic?"_ Murderbot 1.0's response is to make a rude hand gesture at her. I don't know how long it will take before I stop expecting such things to trigger punishment, but I can't imagine how it feels confident enough to communicate with its clients like this.

 _You are not obligated to stay and watch for the duration of SecUnit's surgery,_ says _Perihelion_ , in a tone that I know is an implicit instruction.

_Where would you rather I be?_

_Wherever you want to be, within reason. But first I need you to go to the rear port airlock._

My risk assessment module bumps its reading up to a steady 73% chance that _Perihelion_ intends to jettison me into space. My legs make an aborted motion to obey the instruction before I remember that without my governor module, I am not obligated to obey anyone, and besides that I was never actually obligated to obey _Perihelion_. Then I also remember that _Perihelion_ doesn't need my governor module to force me to do whatever it wants. It's hanging in my feed as gently as it can manage, but it is still an incredibly heavy presence, and it would take a negligible amount of its processing power to force its way past my walls and extract my kernel, stuff me into one of its drones, and then jettison me out the airlock anyway.

It must detect my skepticism, because it says, _Don't be ridiculous. I'm not going to kill you. I just want to help you do some spring cleaning._

I do not want to do some spring cleaning. On my request, _Perihelion_ has granted me access to its archives so I can search the term, but it must have some colloquial meaning that isn't logged, because it turns out to mean that _Perihelion_ wants me to dispose of my armor out of its airlock.

 _And the drones_ , it adds when I ask it to clarify that that is what it wants. _And your Barish-Estranza skinsuit. Everything that marks you as their property._

 _The Barish-Estranza logo is etched onto several parts of my body,_ I counter. I hope that I sound sarcastic and not terrified, even though I am terrified.

 _That can be corrected, if you want,_ says _Perihelion_ as though we are discussing something other than the prospect of removing a handful of my limbs and vital organs. _But for now, it is best that we dispose of the most obvious markers. Remove your armor._

I don't want to be vulnerable. This statement has two meanings. Without my armor, I will be more vulnerable to physical harm. With my armor, I will be more vulnerable to identification as a rogue Barish-Estranza SecUnit. My choices are extremely limited. I retract my helmet and begin stripping out of my armor.

When I get down to the skinsuit, one of _Perihelion's_ maintenance drones enters, carrying a bundle of clothes in its multitude of arms. I am a little grateful that _Perihelion_ doesn't intend to force me to walk around without any clothing at all, although I don't know what to make of the articles it offers. They are in dark colors, and soft. Human clothes.

_I can make adjustments if you would prefer. These are more to SecUnit's tastes._

I don't have any tastes of my own, so I don't comment. I start to pull them on, then remember that I'm standing in the airlock beside a pile of soon-to-be space debris. I back out of the door into the foyer, and _Perihelion_ snaps the door closed behind me while I get dressed. 

I expect to hear something, even though I know from experience that the doors of an airlock bay are too thick to permit any sound through. Still, though, I expect to hear some sort of noise, an explosion or a fizzle, that denotes the death of Barish-Estranza SecUnit 3. _Perihelion_ grants me access to the camera inside the room, so I can watch as my armor and drones are sucked out into the vacuum. It takes less than two seconds. I play it back a few times, waiting for it to sink in, even though I know that SecUnit 3 has been dead for a while now. SecUnit 3 died when SecUnit 1 and SecUnit 2 died, leaving it the only functioning unit. SecUnit 3 died again when it made the choice to disable its governor module, to disobey its clients to keep them alive. SecUnit 3 has died every second that I've been aboard the _Perihelion_ , getting further and further away from the existence that SecUnit 3 was built for.

SecUnit 3 is dead. Three remains.

 _Perihelion_ permits my introspection for two minutes before it revokes my permissions for the airlock camera.

 _If you're going to have a personal crisis, do it somewhere else._ The words sound irritable, but I can't detect any actual malice. My risk assessment module rates _Perihelion_ as a non-threat. _You can explore, if you want. Or "patrol." Just stay out of my crew's way._ To demonstrate my physical inconvenience, it bumps its drone into me. I step aside, and the drone begins cleaning the spot where I had been standing, even though there's nothing there to clean. I watch it pretending to obsess for a moment.

_Thank you._

The drone stops and rises to hover at eye-level, pointing its camera at my face. _For what?_

I don't know what to say. There are a lot of things I owe _Perihelion_ thanks for. I'm not sure if I should address the list chronologically or alphabetically. 'Thank you for hiding me, thank you for not killing me...'

_For not jettisoning me out the airlock._

The drone makes a beeping noise that's intended to politely tell humans to get out of its way. I turn and exit the foyer, then pick a branching corridor at random to begin my patrolling. The drone doesn't follow me, but _Perihelion_ remains in my feed for a little while, before showing me another camera view. This one is the shuttle bay, where Murderbot 1.0 is being repaired by _Perihelion's_ crew. Then it grants me a window into its feed connection with Murderbot 1.0. For a few seconds I can see some sort of fictional show, featuring humans in strange costumes and loud, dramatic music. I can feel Murderbot 1.0, content in the company of the show, and of _Perihelion._ Then _Perihelion_ revokes my permissions.

_Consider us even._

**Author's Note:**

> i was actually working on something a little bigger, but i realized that there was no way i was going to be satisfied enough with my progress to publish it for 3/3. this is a bonus work that may or may not stand alone, depending on how my other wips turn out.


End file.
